


Let Your Hair Hang Loose

by misura



Category: Triskelion - Erin A. Bisson
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Other, Pre-Canon, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 23:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "You're not touching my hair," Santana said, the moment they had been left alone, if not unobserved.[You don't trust me?]The function of human hair still escaped Diablo, more or less.





	Let Your Hair Hang Loose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalloway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalloway/gifts).



> super late fic or treat ficlet number two

_"Try braiding his hair, maybe?"_ a too nervous scientist from Vorakh had suggested by way of an excercise to improve their control and coordination - a new face, and one unlikely to last on the Gemini project, if this was their reaction to Diablo.

Not that Diablo had any say in such matters, any more than his other half or any of his brothers and sisters had, nor did he want to. Sufficient that they had given him Santana, and/or the other way around; for the moment, Diablo called himself content (and tried very hard not to think where Unity and Octavian were or rather: where Unity and Octavian _weren't_ , which was right there with the rest of them, where they belonged).

"You're not touching my hair," Santana said, the moment they had been left alone, if not unobserved.

 _[You don't trust me?]_ The function of human hair still escaped Diablo, more or less.

Octavian had tried to explain it to him once, but in the end, they had agreed to settle on 'it looks good' and leave it at that. (It did, too. Better on Santana than on Unity, Diablo thought privately, but of course he knew that he felt that way at least partially because Santana was his.)

"Trust has nothing to do with it." Santa put a protective hand on his golden ringlets.

A futile gesture, had Diablo actually wished to get at the stuff. As he did not: _[I would be careful.]_

Santana groaned and lowered his hand. "I know that, light of my eyes."

_[Then why?]_

_[Because braiding each other's hair is kids' stuff!]_

Diablo considered. There had been a time when Santana had not yet belonged to him, nor he to Santana. He had come to think of that time as his childhood. He had changed since then, though not the way humans did.

Then again, from the way he had heard some of the scientists talk, Santana was not quite human, either, even if he looked like one very much. _That_ had nothing to do with the fact that he belonged to Diablo.

 _[I'd still like to try.]_ What he'd like to do was touch, or put Santana into his heart again, but it would be inappropriate to say so.

"Tell you what: you grow some hair of your own, and then we'll talk." Santana kicked at a wall for no reason, unless he was looking to injure his foot.

 _Ah._ Fair enough, Diablo supposed. He should have realized it sooner. _[You're worried about Octavian and Unity.]_ A beat. _[We all are.]_

Santana scowled. "How's that supposed to help make me feel better?"

Diablo tentatively reached out, brushing up against the surface of Santana's mind. It was only when Santana shivered that he realized he'd put up the additional power to make his touch physical as well as psionic.

 _[Sorry.]_ He wasn't; he _liked_ being allowed to touch Santana, body or mind, but this time, the contact had been uninvited, unexpected, and so it seemed wiser to offer a pre-emptive apology than to risk Santana's already on edge temper making him say something they would both regret.

"Don't be," Santana said, reaching out in turn. _[I like it. Keep going.]_

Diablo cautiously started to draw more power. They had practiced something like this, but the emphasis had always been on distance, on being able to sense things that were further away. On keeping their touch light and easy, undetectable.

Santana was far more confident, reaching for him like he'd just been waiting for this opportunity.

Diablo expanded the number of his psychic tendrils, steering clear of Santana's head (musn't touch the hair, though the why still escaped him) but ghosting over his chest, his back, down to his legs.

Santana shivered again, one of his own tendrils connecting with Diablo, feeding the sensation back to him, so that suddenly, they were both touching and being touched, both shivering with the pleasure of being touched and shivering with the pleasure of being the one to _cause_ those shivers.

Diablo/Santana noted that some parts of his/their body were more sensitive to his/their touch than others. He/they decided to concentrate his/their attention on those parts, to see how much more pleasure he/they might feel if he/they slipped in a tendril just -

_[ - there ... yes ... please.]_

Santana/Diablo moaned, as Diablo/Santana purred, lost to anything other than what he/they were doing. Furnaces, but it felt good, so good, to be together like this, like nobody existed but the two of them, like nothing else out there even mattered.

_[let me ... yes ... like that]_

Pleasure built and then broke over them, their connection keeping them together through most of it, until they came back to themselves, Santana panting and Diablo's mind still reeling from strange, new sensations he had never known to be able to experience.

Now that he knew, though he rather thought he might like to experience them again, and often.

_[Well. I don't know about you, but I sure feel a lot better. So thanks for that, I guess.]_

_[My pleasure,]_ Diablo replied, sensing Santana's amusement over the link they still shared.

His pleasure, indeed.


End file.
